Magic Tricks
by QuillsandValium
Summary: Harry PotterBatman xover! Harry Potter is kidnapped by the Joker, need I say more? Who will save the boy-who-lived? Find out next time; same time, same place.
1. Joke's on You

**A/N- Fear us! For we are QuillsandValium! Okay, so we are actually SlinkyandtheBloodyWands and Patricia de Lioncourt. This fic is a crossover between Harry Potter and Batman. Fun times ahead! **

**Disclaimer- We don't own Batman, that belongs to Warner Bros. And we don't own Harry Potter, that belongs to JK Rowling. This applies to all chapters.**

**Magic Tricks**

**By**

**QuillsandValium**

**Chapter 1: Joke's on You!**

Albus Dumbledore entered the room.

The scene before him was complete chaos. Aurors, reporters from the _Daily Prophet_, and even the Minister of Magic was there.

"We need to clear the scene, Albus," the minister said. "Even the _muggle_ journalist are about to arrive!"

"Can you blame them, Cornelius?" the elderly headmaster stated. "Take me to see their bodies."

The minister of magic nodded solemnly. He led the headmaster into the dining room. Seated around the table was a grotesque sight. The three victims were face down in their plates of food, their hands down at their sides and showing no sign of struggle.

Dumbledore looked down at the scene then back at Minister Fudge. "How did they die? They look otherwise unharmed."

Fudge raised a brow. "Lift their heads up, Albus."

"Was it a muggle killing?" Dumbledore asked.

"Just lift their heads up," Fudge insisted.

Dumbledore hesitated then reached down for the hair of the youngest and largest victim. He lifted the young man's head off the plate to find his face frozen in a huge, freakish _smile_. Comically shoved into the boy's mouth was a shiny red apple.

"Are they all like this?" Dumbledore asked.

The minister nodded.

"Our expert on Muggle Affairs tried to explain this to me, but I didn't understand," Fudge said. "Do you know what's going on, Albus?"

"The Joker, Minister."

"A playing card?"

"No," Dumbledore snapped. "The Joker is a muggle criminal from the U.S.—"

"Damn Yanks," the minister murmured.

"As I was saying, the Joker is a criminal from Gotham City. He has received huge publicity over the years. He was thought to be imprisoned in Arkham Asylum but apparently he has escaped . . . again, from what I've heard."

"But why would he attack the Dursleys, Albus?" the minister asked. "It doesn't make any bloody sense. Why would a muggle criminal be out to ruin me?"

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you see?" Fudge exclaimed. "This is a total fiasco. The Prophet's headlines will read "House of Boy-Who-Lived Attacked by Muggle!" This whole sit. . . ."

Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him. "Where _is_ Harry?

Fudge's eyes widened. "I thought he was with your people."

Dumbledore was instantly in a rage. "We must contact him immediately to locate Harry."

"Contact who?" Fudge asked.

"His name is Batman. He is _the_ source on the Joker. His is always the one to capture him. _We must contact him!_" Dumbledore all but shouted.

Fudge turned from the headmaster to the _Daily Prophet _reporters, striking a pose for the camera. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm sorry to announce that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived has been kidnapped!"

At precisely that moment, Harry Potter could have been seen walking toward the Dursleys' home. He had been out just to get away from his piggish cousin Dudley; he found that long walks often helped ease his anger at certain things. He usually returned home to a relative quiet. However, as he looked up at the house, he saw that this was not the case today.

Harry stopped, his head cocked like a confused puppy's as he watched the scene before the house. It seemed that, unbeknownst to his muggle neighbors, there was a large gathering of robed witches and wizards in front of number four Privet Drive.

_What's the ministry doing at the Dursleys?_ he wondered.

"AH HA HA HA HA!"

_Maniacal laughter—that's never good._ Harry turned and came face to face with possibly the strangest person he'd ever seen—possibly.

Dressed in purple and lime green, this man with bleach skin and green hair and eyes grinned menacingly at him. Harry expected the smile to fade, but it never did. _Is he stuck like that?_

"Nighty, night, kiddo!" the man said.

Purple smoke squirted from the flower on his jacket and Harry's world went black.

The Batmobile sped through the streets of Gotham City. Only minutes ago Batman had received a call from Arkham, announcing that the Joker had escaped during the night. Knowing that the Commissioner would want to speak with him, Batman was quickly on his way

A dull buzzing signaled that his phone was ringing. He pressed a button to take the call.

"Alfred."

"No, but I'm looking for him," came a Scottish accented voice that was definitely not Alfred's.

"How did you get this number? I'm unlisted!"

"I need to find Alfred Pennyworth," the voice said, rather panicky.

"He's not here right now," Batman said sarcastically.

"Please, I need to speak with Batman. You must understand, Harry Potter has been kidnapped!"

"Who's that?"

"Where is Batman?"

"He's busy. He's looking for the Joker, actually."

"That is the very person who's taken Harry!"

Batman sighed. "Who is this?"

"When you see Alfred, tell him to owl Albus Dumbledore."

There was a click and an aggravated growl from Batman. _Who was that? And who is Harry Potter? I can't believe he hung up on me!_

Batman sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

**End Notes: Did you like it? Huh, huh, huh! Clicky the review button and let us know! **


	2. Fun in the Funhouse

**A/N: That was a lot of reviews! Thanks so much! We're glad that you enjoyed our little chapter, and we beg your forgiveness for the long gap between updates.**

**Magic Tricks**

**By**

**Quillsandvalium**

**Chapter 2: Fun in the Funhouse**

The Boy-Who-Lived's head lifted slowly, emitting a groan.

"Where am I?" he moaned, struggling to move his arms. He looked down seeing neon ropes confining his arms and legs to a straight-back chair. His eyes moved up, taking in his strange surroundings. Odd versions of himself stared back at him—fat Harry, skinny Harry, tall Harry, short Harry—from long mirrors on the walls. The bright colors of the room made him squint, and he grimaced at the silly, disgusting atmosphere.

Then something a few feet in front of him moved. Atop a desk lined in fuzzy pink material sat none other than. . . .

"Cliché!" shouted Harry's kidnapper.

"Clown man," the boy replied.

"The Joker, actually," the man replied, letting a bit of vanity escape.

"I don't care what your name is! What am I doing here?" Harry yelled. He struggled to move his fingers into his pockets where his faithful wand was waiting—or not.

"Looking for this?" the Joker asked, waving Harry's wand in front of his nose.

Harry glared. "Now who's cliché."

_Meanwhile at the Batcave. . . . _

The Batmobile slid to a stop, the top pulled back. Batman jumped out.

"Alfred!" Batman shouted.

"Sir?" the butler replied, approaching the Batmobile.

"Alfred, I just received a call on my 'private' line. . . ."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware that Master Nightwing was in the area."

"It wasn't Nightwing, Alfred. It was a man named Albus Dumbledore—and he hung up on me!" Batman took a seat at his computer, arms crossed.

Alfred's eyes widened. "Dumbledore?"

"He mentioned a boy named. . . ."

"Harry Potter?"

Batman stood again, his face solemn. "Alfred, what aren't you telling me?"

"You may wish to take a seat, Master Bruce." The two men sat. Alfred took a deep breath and began. "He is called the Boy-Who-Lived. No, let me begin with my own story. My parents were, for a lack of a better term, magical. You may find this hard to believe but my mother was a witch and my father a wizard."

Batman raised a brow.

"There is a world that exists outside of your own, hidden from the eyes of muggles—people without the ability to do magic."

Batman leaned forward. "Are you saying that you can do magic, Alfred?"

"No, let me explain," Alfred said. "I am what the wizarding world calls a squib. In other words, I was born from a wizarding family but without the ability to do magic. However, I do keep in contact with the headmaster of the best wizarding school in existence. Albus Dumbledore."

"That's the man who contacted me, but why would Dumbledore ask specifically for me?" Batman asked.

"You are right, that does not make any sense," Alfred replied. "What else did Dumbledore say?"

"He mentioned that kid, Harry Potter, and said that he had been kidnapped by the Joker."

"Oh my!" Alfred's face paled. "Sir, you must save that boy! You must find the Joker immediately. There's no telling what that maniac is doing to the boy!"

_The Funhouse indeed held many horrors. . . ._

"NO! Please, no! Not that! Don't! NOOOO!" Harry erupted in laughter.

"Talk, boy! Talk!" The Joker tossed Harry's sock to the side and raised a huge green feather. He stroked the arch of Harry's foot with the cheap, yet effective torture device.

"What do you want me to say!" Harry gasped through tears of laughter.

"What is your favorite color?" the Joker asked.

He moved the feather faster.

"Green!" Harry squealed.

"I want the truth!" the Joker shouted.

"Purple! Okay, it's purple!"

"See?" the villain say, lowering the feather. "Now was that so hard?"

About that time, a door opened from somewhere behind the Joker. The clown turned, and Harry now had a clear vision of the woman that had entered, if indeed there was a woman beneath the spandex and make-up.

Her jumpsuit was red and black in color and had the symbols that one would find in a deck of cards on it. Harry had the impression that, had there been a magazine called _PlayJester_, she would have been the woman of the month.

Around her waist, however, was a pink apron which read "Kiss the Cook." Her mitten-covered hands held what appeared to be a chocolate cake—unfrosted.

"What are you doing, Harley?" the Joker inquired.

"I baked our guest a cake, puddin'," Harley replied. Turning to Harry, she added, "I hope you like it."

"Yeah, I actually do like chocolate cake," the Boy-Who-Lived said.

Harley stomped her foot in a child-like pose. "It's lemon!"

Harry stared at her, unaware of what to say next.

"What do you want, Harl?" the Joker asked.

"Oh, right! Our new employah' needs to speak with you. He's in the other room, Mistah J."

Harley walked across the room and sat the cake in Harry's lap. The Joker handed her the feather.

"You two get to know each other better while I go discuss business."

"Yay!" Harley squealed.

As the Joker walked away, Harry looked down at the cake in his lap.

"Why didn't you frost it?" he asked.

"I did!"

"What happened to it then?"

"I baked it in the cake."

"You baked it in the cake? How stupid are you?"

Harley smiled wickedly and replied, "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"

Meanwhile in the other room, the Joker gave a flourishing bow to his present employer. The man stood in the shadows with this back to the clown.

"So, do you have the boy?" the man asked.

"As promised," the Joker replied.

"Very good. Now, hold on to him. Do not harm him. I will put the rest of the plan in action. Now, I shall depart."

A small pop was heard, and the man was gone.


	3. News to Me

****

A/N- Here's the next long awaited chapter to Magic Tricks! Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3- News to Me

Batman stood.

"Well, obviously, we need to contact this Dumbledore. How do we do that, Alfred?"

Before the butler could answer, a brown tawny owl flew past them and landed beside the Batcomputer's keyboard. Tied to its leg, which it was holding out to them, was a roll of parchment.

"What is this? How does an owl get into the Batcave?" Batman asked, outraged.

"The same way the bats do, sir. And this is owl post. The Wizarding world's answer to a mailing service," Alfred explained as he took the letter from the owl, patted its head, and gave the parchment to Batman.

The owl flew away, ruffled, as he unraveled the note and read:

_Dear Mr. Batman,_

Since I am unable to reach you by Muggle telephone, I have decided that this would be the best approach. I hope Regis didn't scare you.

Perhaps Alfred has made you aware by now that Harry Potter has been kidnapped. We believe that the Joker was responsible. We know that he was responsible for the deaths of the three Muggle relatives of Harry.

It is vital to the survival of Wizarding world that Harry Potter be found alive. And unharmed, of course. It is my understanding that you were responsible for the recent attempts of rehabilitation of this fiend. I would like to ask you to find Harry and return him to us.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Batman turned the letter over, as if expecting more, but when there was none, he turned to Alfred.

__

"What just happened?" the Dark Knight asked.

"Stay with me, sir. This boy, Harry Potter, is the only one to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort. It was prophesied so. You need to save him. It is imperative!"

"Gee, I'd love to, Alfred, but I don't know where he's at, at the moment! And I've got nothing to go on."

"Sir, it's the Joker. He's got to be in an abandoned fun house or candy factory or something."

"Yeah, there's only fifty million of those things! Why do contractors keep building these things? Does this city look like the kind that wants a fun house?"

Alfred's face seemed to sink.

"So, you're not even going to try and find the boy?" he asked.

"Well, of course I am. I'm Batman. But, how do you even know he's in Gotham, if he had to go to England to get this boy?"

__

Meanwhile, in the fun house _in **Gotham City**…_

Although he was still restrained to his chair, Harry had been moved closer to the T.V. This of course was after hours of Harley tossing raisins at him, trying to land them in his mouth. So that turned into hours of "I'll get it this time."

After a while, she had gotten bored and left the room. Joker had entered shortly after and started watching television. Harry, whose back had been toward the set, started to complain.

"I can't see! What's going on! What actress is that? I recognize that voice!"

And he had persisted until he was put into his present position.

Hours of Pokemon later, Harley reentered the room and snatched the remote from the Joker.

"Harl…do we remember the last time you took the remote from me?"

"Puddin'…look at this!" she said, switching it to a news channel.

A newsman in a blue suit was shuffling papers. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "In other news, across the pond in Surrey, England, three were found dead on Saturday morning. Forty-six year old Vernon Dursley, a prominent drill manufacturer and member of the community, was murdered along side his wife, Petunia--forty-one, and their only son, Dudley--fifteen. The gruesome scene led investigators to believe that this may indeed be the work of a serial killer. Presently, police are searching for a missing fourth member of the household, a teenage boy by the name of Harold Plotter…"

Harry looked at the Joker in horror.

"You killed them…"

The Joker snatched the remote back and quickly changed the channel.

"You _killed_ them! You monster! You vile, vile, murderous monster! Why…what are you watching?"

Harley glanced at the boy with a raised eyebrow. However, the Joker paid this sudden change of attitude no mind.

"It's called Spongebob Squarepants. Do you like animation?"

"I don't know. I never got t watch a lot of T.V. when I was young."

"Why not?"

"Dudley would beat me if I tried to watch it with him."

For the first time, for a split second, the Joker looked solemn. Then as his smile returned, he said, "Sucks for you."

"Well, he is dead now…"

He playfully slapped Harry's knee.

"Well, I did you a favor then."

Harry didn't reply. He remained in thoughtful silence as the cartoon began.

****

End Notes- Yeah, we know it's short. And we don't own Spongebob, that belongs to Nick cartoons or Pokemon, I think this belongs to WB. Did you like it? Please review!


	4. Just See the Man in the Dress

**Magic Tricks**

**Chapter 4: Just See the Man in the Dress**

_Roxy's Ladies_

_4700 Handback Lane_

Batman looked up from the address Alfred had given him, brow raised as he watched a rather tall woman in a sequin-covered skirt slip in through the doors beneath the flashing neon sign announcing 'Roxy's Ladies'. When he'd asked for the location of a more _magically aware_ criminal hangout, Batman was quite certain that Alfred had said this place was a gentlemen's club.

"Odd name," the Dark Knight muttered.

A moment later, he shrugged off his misgivings and stepped up to the entrance way. He walked past the club's bouncer, slightly confused by the smirk on the body builder's face as he gestured for Batman to enter the building. The Great Detective realized soon enough that his skills in observation might be dwindling with age.

Upon first sight, he saw a club filled with chatting, flirting men and women. It was when he noticed three Barbara Streisands huddled at one end of the bar that he became suspicious of the unusually muscular legs and rather hairy. . . parts of most of the patrons.

Batman stopped his frown from twisting into an even more offensive expression. "Drag queens. . . ." he growled.

Suddenly he felt a sharp sting across his left cheek. Batman blinked. A tall brunette 'woman' stood before him, left hand on her hip, right still posed in the air, index finger hovering dangerously close to his face.

"Oh no you don't, be-yotch!"

Batman tenderly touched his jaw. "I apologize. . . ."

The cross-dresser's eyes widened. 'She' leaned in, her voice taking on a deep, gruff tone. "You're not Charlie?" At Batman's raised brow, she winced. "Oops. Sorry about that, dude. Who you lookin' for?"

"A Mr. Trelawney," the Dark Knight answered, still somewhat dumbfounded by the interaction. Charlie? Did that mean that someone in this club was dressing up as him?

"Trelawney?" The brunette tapped her chin. "Hmmm. . . . Trelawney." A smile crossed her face. "Oh! You mean Cookie Licious! Go straight back through the beaded curtains. There's a private room—she'll be the husky one in the seat."

Batman didn't wait for more, already slipping around the crowd, his pace quickening as "Groove Thang" began to play (to the obvious thrill of the karaoke fans). Much to his disgust, he parted the pink beads and stepped back into a room only to find . . . Cher? Or, at least, it was a man who remarkably resembled a heftier version of the diva.

"What's up, babe?"

'Babe!' Batman did not let himself process that greeting. "Trelawney?"

Cher raised a brow. "Cookie here, love. So. . . What brings the big, bad bat here?" She fluttered her false lashes flirtatiously. "Need Cookie to penetrate that deep, dark—ehem—mind of yours."

Batman froze. "No. You're not my type." He paused a moment, watching the joy slip off of Cookie's face. "I'm here for information."

"All work and no play," she said, clicking her nails on the table before her. "Straight to business, then. How can I be of service?"

* * *

"Do you think the sponge and the starfish are gay?" Harry asked, looking over at the Joker.

Joker shrugged as he reached over and took a handful of popcorn out of the large, plastic bowl in Harry's lap. Harry huffed indignantly. Being that his hands were tied, he had yet to have any of the salty, buttery treat.

"I think they are," Harry continued, groaning as bits of popcorn fell out of the clown's mouth. "Isn't this a kid's show?"

"Hey, welcome to the new millennium," Joker said, not really paying any attention to Harry.

A few moments later, the cartoon ended. Joker sighed and turned off the television.

"It was a rerun. I'd seen that episode before," he said.

Seeing the silence that followed as an opportunity, Harry said, "So, as much fun as this has been…What are you planning to do with me?"

"Well, generally, all my schemes involve making money," Joker replied, standing and stretching.

"Off me?"

"Off you."

"You're…going to sell me into…prostitution?" Harry asked timidly.

The Clown Prince of Crime let loose his maniacal laughter. Then, sighing and wiping an eye when he had finished, he said, "You're that full of yourself? I'd sell you into slave first!"

"Well," Harry began, blushing, "I heard that people like…virgins."

"You're a virgin? At sixteen?"

Harry pursed his lips and said, through gritted teeth, "I've been very busy saving the world, you know."

"Nice excuse, Spongebob. Really, nice cover," Joker said, nodding and winking. Then, he added, "But seriously, we're going to auction you off. To everyone!"

"And this is unlike prostitution…how?"

"Well, they're not going to want to have sex with you. They'll either want to kill you or save you," Joker answered.

"Fine. So, who's going to be there?"

Joker's smile widened as he placed his hand behind his back and brought it forward again, unraveling a long piece of parchment that went the length of his body and still left a trail on the floor.

"Well, let me see…" Joker said.

"Oh, damn," Harry muttered, eyeing the list.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge. Minister, wizard of high standing, backstabbing son of a . . . .

"Hello?" he called out, his voice resounding through the dark, seemingly empty manor. _This is for the better of all wizarding society. This is not wrong. It's right. Right, damn it!_

Then, why, one might ask, was he covered in a thin later of sweat, alone in a foreboding meeting place, praying to every deity that the Ministry would never learn of this scandal?

Bright light suddenly paved the floor before him, causing the Minister to stumble back. He caught himself before he exclaimed, seeing the outline of several figures in black standing with wands drawn in his direction.

He fumbled for his handkerchief, dabbing his forehead anxiously. "Your Ma-master is expecting me," he managed to sputter.

A gruff called out, "Top floor, third door on the right. _He_ awaits you."

Fudge nodded, absentmindedly finding his way to the staircase. He could see light coming from a few doors down when he reached the floor. Gulping, he approached.

There he stood, the one, the only. . . .Lord Voldemort.

His thin frame was draped in a black robe that looked two times his size, its length billowing in a breeze that did not exist. The dark wizard had his back to the Minister, but that did not lessen his terrifying presence. In fact, Fudge found that just knowing that red eyes stared out at the graveyard beyond the window left him shaking.

"You asked to meet with me for what reason, Fudge?" Voldemort hissed.

"I ha-have a prop-prop-proposition for you."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, might this proposition be?" The Dark Lord turned his head slightly as to look over his shoulder. "It is not often that the Minister of Magic requests my audience."

"I have something that you want, something worth trading, perhaps," Fudge answered, some of his stately confidence returning. "All that I ask in return is the safety of wizarding kind. Your only payment would be insurance that you would not harm your own people, for any reason."

"What is it, Fudge?"

The Minister stood a bit straighter. "I have, in my possession, Harry Potter. I will be willing to trade him, if you give your word that the mayhem you insist on causing the wizarding world will come to an end."

"Potter?" Voldemort turned, slowly, facing the other wizard. He raised a hairless brow. "And you have Potter now? In this house?"

"Well. . . ." The Minster wiped his brow again. "Not exactly. He's being kept by an ally of mine, the infamous muggle criminal, the Joker."

Voldemort cocked his head. "Really? Impressive."

Fudge puffed out his chest. "Indeed. Will you trade?"

"No," Voldemort sneered. "But thank you. _Avada Kedavra!_"

In a flash of green, the Minister fell to the floor, lifeless.

"Now to find this. . . .Joker."


End file.
